


the girl next door

by thankyouturtle



Series: strangers on the road [2]
Category: The Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thankyouturtle/pseuds/thankyouturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon's squire has his secrets. Some secrets are more surprising than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the girl next door

Prince Jonathan lay in his bed, waiting for sleep to come. He was irritated; at Delia, for making a fool of him by spending the evening flirting with his squire; and at himself, for trying to pick a fight with Thom about it. He was well aware that Thom had no interest in the lady, and knew just as well that arguing with him seldom worked out in his own favour. Thom never lost his temper outright, but he would be stand-offish and cold for days after the things that Jon had said. In the dark, Jon smiled to himself, a little ruefully. Thom's loyalty was even harder to win than his respect. It was a tribute to their relationship that Thom would forgive him at all.

When he'd chosen Thom as his squire, it had come to a shock to most people. As prince he ought to have chosen one of the strongest fighters, and Thom would never be that. Even now, with his Ordeal less than a week away, Jon had to almost drag him to the training grounds to practice. He was a fair shot with a bow, but not brilliant; indifferent with a pole arm; and barely passable with a sword. As a page, he'd been even worse, and his book learning had been so poor that their masters had been heard to ask if he'd been dropped on his head as a child - perhaps repeatedly. But Jon had found him in the library one night, head deep in a book of magic that no one his age ought to understand - that even now, Jon wasn't sure he himself could follow - and realised that much of Thom's uselessness, his stupidity, was an act. He liked to keep his secrets, secret. And even now, after all their time together, Jon was sure there was much about his squire he didn't know - and that Thom prefered it that way.

Perhaps Thom was simply a result of his home life. He had certainly not mourned the loss of his father. His sister had been another matter - her death, coming as it did at the end of the Sweating Sickness, had made Thom draw even further in on himself. He hadn't wanted sympathy, then, but he'd seemed - perhaps not happy, but certainly not uncomfortable with Jon's presence. It wasn't until they'd survived the Black City that Jon had understood just what his silent compassion had gained him - a loyal, powerful friend. Thom had been the only choice for his squire, then.

He rolled over, further tangling his mess of blankets as he did so, and frowned as muted voices met his ear. He'd thought Thom had retired to bed hours ago, but he could hear - yes, definitely a visitor in his squire's chambers. Jon shook his head. He'd always assumed that Thom was simply too discreet with his affairs for him to have noticed them, but perhaps the boy had been speaking honestly when he had said he had little interest in sex. Perhaps, with his Ordeal so close, he'd changed his mind.

Jon's scowl deepened in confusion at a new sound, one louder than the voices. Something was scratching at the door which connected Thom's rooms to his own. Some kind of animal? Hurriedly, he pulled on his stockings and breeches, and the shirt he'd laid out for the next day, and went to the door, unsure whether he should let Thom know he didn't appreciate being disturbed. As he reached out a hand, tentatively, to knock, the door itself opened, swinging outward to reveal not two, but three people in Thom's chambers. Thom sat on his bed cross-legged, a hand at his trim, red-gold beard. Standing facing Thom was another man, tall, lean, and dark, dressed as a commoner but with a presence which reminded Jon, somehow, of his own father. The second visitor was a young woman, handsome, but not beautiful, and dressed in men's clothes. As the door had opened she'd half turned to look towards it and exclaimed, "Shadow!" and now, as Jon watched, a black streak of a cat trotted towards her, away from the door.

"I'm sorry Jon," Thom said in his most amused tones, "But my sister has never bothered to train her pets." The woman glared at the cat as it leapt onto the bed and settled itself down, apparently unaware it had done anything wrong, and then turned startlingly bright purple eyes to Jon, a worry line appearing between her brows.

"Sister?" Jon repeated. He prided himself on getting a hold of any situation quickly, but he suddenly felt like he was very much out of his depth.

"Where are my manners?" Thom asked. He slid off the bed, clearly enjoying himself. "Prince Jonathan, may I present my sister, Lady Alanna of Trebond?" Jon would have taken her hand, but instead she bowed to him, a long red braid falling over one shoulder as she straightened.

"I am very glad to meet you," Jon said gravely, "particularly as I had heard - clearly wrongly - of your demise."

Lady Alanna's face coloured hotly, and this time her glare was directed quickly at her brother before she replied, "I am very glad not to be dead, Your Highness."

"And this is George Cooper, my book-seller." Jon turned to the other stranger, and wondered at Thom being able to lie so blazenly without swallowing his own tongue. Perhaps he did buy the ancient tomes he studied from Cooper, but it was impossible to imagine that Cooper, with those careful eyes and wary look, made a living from them. Not an honest one, anyway.

Cooper also bowed, and as he straightened Jon said lightly, "It's always a pleasure to meet friends of my squire's."

"We're sorry to have disturbed you," Lady Alanna said. Although she was smaller - and decidedly more female - she had so much of Thom's look to her that it was impossible to think that Thom might be lying about who she was. Nor did she look like a creature of nightmares, a person who had returned to the mortal realm after dying. So where had she been these past seven years - and why had she chosen now to reveal herself? How long had Thom known she was still alive? And this George Cooper - he kept his face blank, but suddenly he thought he recognised the name.

"Not at all," Jon said gallantly. "I should have locked the door and then - Shadow, isn't it? - wouldn't have been able to get it open, even by turning the handle."

As if answering his name, the cat lifted his head, sleepily, and opened eyes that were as purple as Thom's. "Gods," Jon breathed. The cat mewed, and lowered his head again.

"P'raps we'd best be goin'," said the man Cooper. "We've had our talk for the moment." He exchanged a glance with Thom that Jon couldn't read, and he felt a stab of vexation, sharper than he'd experienced even over Delia earlier.

"I imagine there's other people in the palace who'd like to speak with you, Master Cooper," he said. "The Lord Provost, for example." There was a moment's silence as the other three all gave Jon their full attention. Lady Alanna's purple gaze was angry; Thom, cool, as he waited to see what Jon did next; and Cooper's, measured. For a moment, Jon felt like he stood at the top of a fork path, deciding which way to ride. His irritation ebbed. "Of course, in the unlikely event that he asks, I'm not sure I'd be able to tell him I'd seen you."

Cooper's face relaxed into a wry grin. "It always seemed to me princes and kings ought to have an understandin'," he said.

"I don't suppose Thom's going to tell me what's going on," Jon said dryly, "but even he has too much sense to try and rob the palace, and I can't afford to upset my only squire by offending one of his few friends."

"He's that bad at makin' them," Cooper agreed. Thom, once more seated on his bed, raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"It's a wonder you've put up with Thom for as long as you have," Lady Alanna said. "Most knight masters would have tried to drown him in the first three days." When Jon glanced at her she grinned, too, and Jon wondered how she'd managed to develop a sense of humour when her brother had not.

"We do ought to be goin', lass," Cooper said. It was a decidedly familiar manner of speaking, and Jon wondered just what his relationship with Lady Alanna was - what his relationship was with Thom, for that matter. Lady Alanna went to pick up Shadow, who declined to be held and instead settled himself across the redhead's shoulders. She was clearly used to carrying her pet this way, and Shadow balanced himself well as she again bowed to Jon. Cooper didn't - and Jon was not offended. He had a feeling that if Cooper had bowed to him, then he would have had something to worry about.

When they'd left, and Jon was alone with his squire, he thought about asking Thom any of the questions that he'd been left with. He could demand them answers, of course - but while Thom would concede to royal privilege, Jon would pay for it later. Finally, he asked, "I suppose your sister's Gift is as strong as yours?"

"But not so well trained," Thom replied, always prideful where his magic was concerned. Then, with a surprisingly playful look on his face, he added, "Of course, that doesn't always matter. She managed to save you from the Sweating Sickness, didn't she?"

Somehow, Jon got back to his rooms, stripped off his clothes, and climbed back under his blankets. He'd never truly known what had happened that day, when he'd lain somewhere between life and death. He'd remembered a woman's voice, gentle but strong, guiding him back towards the living. Could it have been Lady Alanna's? And if so, why had she disappeared so soon after saving his life?

It was a long time before he fell asleep. His dreams, when they came, were of troubled purple eyes, watching him.


End file.
